


testing for the give

by absoluteares



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexuality Spectrum, Casual Sex, F/F, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absoluteares/pseuds/absoluteares
Summary: Fleetingly, Lexa tries to imagine the heaviness of having someone she wouldn't want to live without, and when she comes up empty she does not linger on it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a harmless coffee shop au and quickly morphed into my own personal playground when I was working through some things over a year ago. I had grand plans for this universe but unfortunately I think this is all the content I'll be writing for it. I wish I had more for you but I do care about this enough to share, so I hope reading it feels as worthwhile to you as it felt when I wrote it. Anyway, enjoy this character exploration of sorts.
> 
> Title is from "Elegy for The Summer Games" by Amorak Huey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lexa pops the cap off her highlighter, stains the article in front of her with a few yellow streaks. Her professor bellows “I think therefore I am” into the amphitheater of collegiate minds. Beside her, Raven scoffs quietly.

“Two hours of this,” Raven mutters, lifting a paper coffee cup to her mouth and taking a sip.

Lexa blinks at her. “Would you prefer another professor?”

“I’d _prefer_ not to open my eyes until noon. I can’t believe 8am classes are real.”

“Didn’t sleep well?”

Raven shrugs, pries her laptop open with her index finger. “Harper talks in her sleep.”

“Anything interesting?” Lexa pulls a notebook from her messenger bag, pairs it with the pen hanging off her shirt pocket.

“Just mumbles a lot, nothing that I can make out. She doesn’t sound happy, though.”

Lexa hums. She had been studying in the common room last week when Harper and Octavia returned from their Linguistics class, mid-conversation. They hadn’t seemed to mind that Lexa was there as they continued to talk. “Seems Harper’s having a rough time.”

Raven purses her lips, lightly taps her fingers against the side of her cup. “Who isn’t.”

Lexa nods at that. Raven is as realistic as she is empathetic - a combination Lexa finds admirable. “Do you suppose it’s related to that Jasper guy she’s been seeing?”

“Yeah.” Raven’s jaw visibly clenches. “Guess I’ll have to shove his face in dog shit the next time I see him.”

“I’m not sure if you’re serious or not,” Lexa says, chuckling at Raven’s pointed glance. “But I support this course of action.”

Raven seems to relax for a moment.

Lexa. . . should be taking notes. “When did you start buying coffee before class?”

“Couple weeks ago. I didn’t have enough time to make a fresh pot before my lab and. . . look, Maya’s great and all but there’s no way I was touching her tainted batch.”

“Tainted?”

“Decaf.” Raven glances at Lexa, mouth quirking. Her hair is in its usual ponytail and she looks deeply exhausted. “You want a sip?”

“That’s not a real offer,” Lexa says, knows.

“No, but later I’ll show you where I got it.” Raven sits quietly for a few minutes then, sans the occasional sigh of annoyance. Lexa’s just starting to focus when Raven whispers an afterthought. “The barista’s cute. Killer baby-blues, great tits.”

Lexa coughs and Raven laughs. “Cute smile, too.”

“The Dean’s List is likely cuter,” Lexa says, sitting up straight and scribbling the date on a blank page. “I’d like to stay on it if you don’t mind.”

“That’s what she said,” Raven says with little energy, dragging her finger through the air like she’s giving herself an invisible point. Lexa sighs. “You’re the one with all the pressing questions but I mention a cute girl and suddenly I’m the distraction.” Raven snorts. “Incredible.”

“Sorry,” Lexa offers, watching the professor struggle with the projector. “Must be Maya’s decaf.”

A title slide finally appears on the projector screen and the room fills with scattered applause, their professor launching into Methodological Skepticism with ease after that. When Lexa glances over at Raven a solid half hour into the lecture, Raven’s typing one handed, using the other to drink her coffee and blinking at the screen like she’s in pain. “Why isn’t there an option to deplete the brightness on this thing and still be able to read what I’m writing?”

Lexa pulls the hair tie off her wrist and drags her curls into a bun, feels Raven watching her as she does it. “I’m sure you could wire it to your liking.”

“I could,” Raven says, removing the lid from her coffee cup and peering inside. She frowns. “I can do anything.”

“Can you fly?” Lexa asks, slowly highlighting _doubt_ everywhere that it appears in her notes. She tilts the page up and Raven rolls her eyes. “Can you see into the future?”

“I can, actually.” Raven deadpans, tearing the corner off Lexa’s notes and rolling it into a tiny ball. “Your death was ruled a homicide.”

Lexa cracks a smile. “Intricately designed explosive device planted under my car, I assume.”

“No suspects,” Raven says, flicking the paper ball at Lexa’s head with a grin.

 

 

 

Raven doesn’t actually show Lexa where she got her coffee. Instead Lexa wakes the next morning to a red post-it note seemingly attached to her forehead while she slept, an address and _Daily Grind_ written across it in a sort of half-cursive. She recognizes the name, blurring by it on her frequent bike rides between campus and the public library.

“Morning, roomie,” Octavia says from the opposite side of the room, too awake for Lexa’s liking. She’s sitting up in bed with textbooks cracked open and eyes fixed on her laptop screen, black-rimmed glasses propped on the bridge of her nose. “Raven dropped by. I tried telling her not to bother you, but. . .” Lexa grunts in response, earns a grin from Octavia. “Hey, when you go downstairs will you let Maya know I’ll be down to help her soon? I’m just on my last paragraph.”

Lexa waves her hand dismissively and Octavia laughs under her breath.

Toothbrush hanging from her mouth, phone in hand and a fresh set of clothes folded under her arm, Lexa wanders into the hall and waits outside the occupied bathroom. She scrolls through her recent contacts, sends off: _You could’ve just sent me a text._

Harper opens the bathroom door a few minutes later, letting out steam and offers Lexa a tired smile. It’s a nice one, and Lexa likes Harper, but if there isn’t any hot water left Lexa’s willing to reconsider. “Maya made coffee if you want.” Lexa narrows her eyes and Harper chuckles knowingly, gifts Lexa with short-lived conversation and heads down the hall.

Lexa sets her clothes atop the closed toilet lid, locks the door, blinks hard against the bathroom fluorescence and considers the safety hazards of taking a shower in the dark. She decides against it, spends all ten glorious minutes - the water pressure fluctuates but it’s hot - with her eyes shut anyway.

When she’s drying off, Lexa’s phone vibrates several times. She wraps the towel around her body and sits on the edge of the tub, skips over a few email reminders and reads Raven’s reply: _says the girl who still takes handwritten notes in class_

If Lexa’s learned anything about Raven since they met sophomore year, it’s that not taking the bait is safest. Lexa’s problem is that she knows and still tends to bite. Her exhaustion wins out for now, though. _Thanks for the address._

_sure thing. btw ask for the espresso_

_I think I can make my own decisions regarding my caffeine intake._ And just to avoid something like ‘your loss’ or ‘you think?’ Lexa tacks on, _I’m surprised you were up before me._

_who says i’ve been to bed?_

_Making good use of your day off, I see._

_help me make better use of it. what are you wearing_

_My towel._ She sends it without a second thought and then rises to brush her teeth.

Raven’s reply comes a few minutes later, when Lexa’s mostly dressed and buttoning up her shirt: _oh my god_

Lexa almost smiles. _Go to sleep._

_speaking of which did you know you sleep with your mouth open_

Lexa runs a hand over the mirror to clear it of steam. Admittedly, she looks a lot better than she feels. She taps out: _I don’t understand why you couldn’t just leave the note with Octavia._

She takes her things back into her room and drags a brush through her hair before tying it all up in a bun. Octavia doesn’t say another word to her the whole time, and for that Lexa’s grateful. She picks up her phone, reads: _and miss out on this thrilling conversation? no chance_

Lexa rolls her eyes, makes her way down the one flight of stairs to the first floor. She passes through the common room - Maya’s working on some colorful posters, something for the upcoming LGBTQIA panel she helped organize - relays Octavia’s message and nearly misses Maya’s small smile on her way into the kitchen area. When Lexa’s eyes land on the coffee pot, she sighs, pops a bagel into the toaster and goes back to her phone. _If this house caught fire I wouldn’t drag you out._

Laughter can be heard from the second floor - Harper’s as well as Raven’s: _guess you found maya’s decaf?_

_Goodnight, Raven._

_that’s what i thought._ A short while later, when Lexa’s peddling her bike into the heart of town, she’ll get one more: _say hi to clarke for me_

 

 

 

Clarke, Lexa learns as she nears the front of the line at the Daily Grind, is Raven’s “cute” barista.

Lexa’s first thought when she reaches the counter - between the glance at Clarke’s name-tag and the _involuntary_ flick of her lashes - is that while Raven’s descriptors are certainly lacking, they’re hardly wrong. Clarke catches her eye and asks Lexa what she’ll be having this morning, voice rough like she’s barely even awake herself, but she’s fresh-faced and smiling broadly; Lexa kind of hates her. Sort of wants to kill her.

“Espresso.” Lexa flinches internally as she hands over her debit card. “Latte. Large, please.”

Clarke presses fingers to the screen in front of her, quick and light. When she’s sliding Lexa’s card through, Lexa lets herself look at the tattoos stretching out from under the deep blue of Clarke’s short uniform sleeve, left arm painted with muted colors that only seem to end where a silver wristwatch begins.

“Cramming for something?” Clarke interrupts with less of a smile and more of a grin, returning her card, and Lexa does not startle. She does, however, raise a brow in question, which prompts Clarke to speak again. “It’s a lot of caffeine,” she says, glancing around at the cafe - Lexa recognizes quite a few faces from school, and a number of others that at least look like students. “So I just figured.”

“No, but a busy day regardless,” Lexa offers. Conversation before coffee is something Lexa actively avoids if only to spare others of the mildly homicidal feelings she experiences at this hour. But there’s no one behind her in line and Clarke’s smile turns less blinding, so: “Raven says hello.”

“Raven. . .” Clarke’s features twist in thought, and then her mouth lifts at the corners, slow, like she’s remembering. She moves towards a line of appliances on the wall behind her, starts on Lexa’s drink and occasionally looks over her shoulder. “Ponytail, red jacket? Perpetual flirt even when she’s lethally exhausted?”

“That’s the one,” Lexa says with a huff of a laugh. She occupies herself with her phone, still ignoring her emails and shoots Raven a text: _I hope you’re sleeping._

“She’s a treat.” Clarke’s smile dims when she returns to the counter, her forehead creasing with concern. “She wouldn’t happen to be your girlfriend, would she?”

Lexa chokes out a laugh, slips her phone back into her pocket so she won’t accidentally drop it. “ _God_ , no.” Clarke visibly relaxes. “I mean, she isn’t the worst person I’ve ever met but I certainly wouldn’t say that to her face.”

Clarke grins. Lexa watches her pull a pen from the cup beside the register, using her left hand to write on the side of Lexa’s coffee cup, right hand holding it steady. “I’ll tell her you couldn’t stop bragging.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Clarke.” They both freeze then, Lexa in word and Clarke’s hand in movement. But then Clarke resumes writing - drawing, perhaps, if the long press of her fingers is anything to go by - and Lexa carries on. “She’s great and I’m -” _definitely into girls_ , Lexa thinks but doesn’t say. “But no, we’re not -” Lexa clears her throat, evens out her voice. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Sorry, you just look so. . .” Clarke starts, lifting her eyes and waving a hand as if to encompass Lexa’s entire being with one gesture. Lexa feels a slight turn in her stomach as Clarke looks her over. “Aggressively stoic? Like you were prepared to gut me with a totally straight face.”

Lexa cracks a smile. Clarke offers her one in return that Lexa imagines probably makes Clarke someone insufferably easy to forgive. “How do you know each other?” Clarke asks.

“School.” Lexa pulls her phone out again, feeling rude but itching for something to do with her hands. “And we live together,” Lexa says, quickly amends before Clarke can press, “on campus. In a theme-house with a few others.”

“Polis?”

Lexa nods.

Clarke leans forward a little, propping herself up with elbows on the counter, eyes fixed on whatever she’s writing, and Lexa shouldn’t stare, but. “I’ve been to a few of the parties there.” Clarke glances up, eyes brightening with something as she meets Lexa’s gaze. “It’s a gorgeous place. This whole town is, really.” Lexa nods once more, because it is, and because she’s suddenly short on words. “I’m a half hour train ride away, up at Blue Ridge most afternoons. I live in the city with some friends and I love it there but it’s a whole other vibe, you know?”

Lexa hums in agreement, then processes fully. “Art school.” She says, impressed - it’s common knowledge that Blue Ridge is hard to get into - as well as unsurprised. “Of course.”

Clarke perks a challenging brow, smile tugging tighter on one side of her mouth. “Of course?”

“You just look so. . . “ Lexa waves a hand, mostly for effect, and Clarke laughs, low and private. Lexa, as it turns out, does not hate her. “I should probably go.”

Clarke slows to a fully upright position, finally setting her pen down and handing over Lexa’s drink. Lexa puts her phone away and accepts the tall coffee cup with both hands, decidedly does not look at whatever it is Clarke has written.

“It was really nice talking to you,” Clarke says with her too-open face, and Lexa’s inclined to believe her. Lexa mentally sorts through safe responses, unsure as to why it’s such a task at all when she grew up exchanging formal niceties, but Clarke interrupts by fishing a shortbread cookie out of the transparent cabinet of baked goods lining half of the lengthy counter. She wraps it in a napkin and hands it to Lexa, who accepts it with a curious stare.

“It’s on me,” Clarke explains, and Lexa wishes she wouldn’t. “It’s more of a bribe, really.”

Lexa’s mouth quirks. “In exchange for what, exactly?”

“Your name,” Clarke says, voice still rough and eyes so blue.

Lexa gives it to her before she makes her exit; it’s the polite thing to do.

 

 

 

Hanging out at the public library - instead of the one at Polis, Lexa can admit - is less about her studies and more about having someplace for herself.

The theme-houses on campus come with an application process Lexa found odd when she first heard about it in her freshman year at Polis. The graduating residents are appointed the responsibility of interviewing potential replacements about their goals and personal interests, as well as how they might best represent the house while living there. Lexa’s groomed for that sort of thing, though, having been raised by politicians, so applying for the house best known for its human rights activism had hardly been a challenge.

Going into it, Lexa knew that the student body tends to refer to it as the Feminist house; there’s a venom in it from time to time and Lexa finds herself growing bored of the ignorance from which it stems. Raven and Octavia rile up easily - they’re a lot less bored and a lot more aggravated - and Lexa fears they’ll find themselves in jail for caring the way that they do. Harper and Maya fall somewhere inbetween, slow to raise their voices but using them regardless, offering an ear to those usually unheard by the masses. As a whole, they all show up wherever support is needed and help organize events on campus that no one else will.

As far as living arrangements go, Lexa feels fortunate.

But like anyone else, she needs space. Luckily, “space” found Lexa early in her freshman year when she’d been exploring the town, the public library offering a larger selection of reading material as well as a downtick in Polis faces. It was around the same time that a middle-schooler wandered through the poetry section and found herself at Lexa’s table, explaining that all the other tables were full and studying at home just wasn’t an option. Lexa had told her to sit, and two years later:

“You’re late,” Tris says when Lexa sets her belongings down on the their usual table.

“I am.”

“It’s 9:30, Lexa.”

Lexa winces. “It is.”

“You promise me two full hours every Saturday.” Tris taps her wrist like she’s ever owned a wristwatch in her life. “9 to 11, not 9:30 to 11:30.”

“You’re right, Tris.”

“You’re never late,” Tris says, face softening for such a brief moment that it almost goes unseen.

Lexa matches it, tone and timing. “I know.”

“Are you gonna tell me why?”

Lexa thinks about blue eyes and tattoos and private laughter. She pulls a chair out across from Tris and settles into it, slowly unpacking study materials and placing her coffee and the cookie Clarke gave her off to the side. “Would that make you less angry with me?”

Tris twists her face in such a way that makes it seem like she honestly thinks it over. “Probably not.”

“I take full responsibility for my lateness,” Lexa says with every ounce of sincerity in her bones. “Your time is as valuable as mine and I apologize.”

“Fine.”

“Will you forgive me?”

Tris stares hard at Lexa for a moment. “Give me half of your cookie and I’ll think about it.”

Lexa nods, breaks her cookie into halves and holds out one for Tris to take. “That’s only fair,” she says, cracking a smile when Tris lights up like she hadn’t expected Lexa to comply so easily.

They fall into their routine after that, the first half of their time together spent working quietly on separate things. For Lexa it’s usually putting a dent into the reading for her classes, often times finding herself ahead of the syllabus. Tris always has a paper to write or an unfinished class project that needs reworking, her workload surprisingly large for a freshman in high school. Tris is bright but unashamed to ask for Lexa’s help when she needs it, and shaping up to be someone who won’t be walked all over; Lexa likes her company.

Usually.

“Did you draw that?” Tris asks when she’s taking a break from her essay.

Lexa looks up from her textbook, sees Tris pointing at Lexa’s coffee cup and remembers. Lexa reaches out and turns the cup, corners of her mouth flitting up when she finally gets a look at Clarke’s drawing. It’s a roughly sketched caricature version of Lexa, an exaggerated grumpy expression on a head three times the size of its body and clearly napping where it stands. There’s a ribbon of z’s floating over the head, and a neatly written _have a nice day!_ along the bottom.

“Looks just like you,” Tris says, laughing at Lexa’s responding frown. “It’s really good,” she adds. “Who drew it?”

Lexa fixes her gaze on her textbook again, avoiding Tris’ curious eyes. “The employee who made my drink.”

“What’s their name?”

“Clarke,” Lexa answers stiffly, turning a page.

“Does Clarke like you?”

“She doesn’t know me.”

There’s a pause and then, “Mia kissed me at Chris M’s birthday party and she doesn’t really know me either.”

Tris is shrugging when Lexa looks up at her. “Your lab partner? That Mia?”

“Yeah.” Tris scratches a little behind her ear, cheeks going rosy. “She’s nice.” Lexa offers her a reassuring smile, finds it slipping away when Tris asks, “Is Clarke nice?”

Lexa sighs. “You’re very nosy.”

“Come on,” Tris whines. “Please don’t make me go back to my essay.”

“How much do you have left?”

Tris groans dramatically. “The conclusion.”

Lexa smiles despite herself. “Finish that first and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Tris sighs, quieting down again. But she grows antsy when there’s twenty minutes left, same as always, and same as always Lexa insists they get up and browse. They leave their belongings with Rivo at the front desk, who consistently pretends to be inconvenienced with a smile tucked into the corner of his quiet mouth. Tris shadows Lexa as she peruses the aisles, and they chat in low voices about Tris’ home and school life.

“Is this the one?” Lexa pries a science-fiction paperback off a shelf slightly too high for Tris and hands it to her. Tris stops in the middle of telling a story that involves an arrogant classmate and safety goggles, beaming at the book and then at Lexa.

“I’ve been looking all over for this,” Tris says, turning the book over in her hands. “Mia won’t shut up about it.” Her smile wanes and Lexa knows, waits. “Do you think it’s weird that she kissed me?”

Lexa feels strange trying to attempt this conversation while peering down at Tris, so she has a seat on the floor, sitting with her back against the shelves and half-smiling when Tris sits beside her. “Did you want her to?”

“Yeah,” Tris says, quiet and not looking at Lexa.

Lexa nods to herself, a little unsure of how to proceed. Tris isn’t bothered by much but Lexa knows her opinion is important to Tris and she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. Lexa takes a breath and settles on, “I was about your age the first time a girl kissed me.”

Predictably, that gets Tris’ attention, her wide-eyed curiosity almost making Lexa laugh. “The _first_ time?”

Lexa does laugh, then. “Yes, Tris. There have been many more times since I was fourteen, believe it or not.”

Tris rolls her eyes, then softens again. “What’s her name?”

“Costia,” Lexa answers, quieter than she means to; it’s been a long while since Lexa’s even thought about Costia and now she’s flooded with nostalgia and the question of where Costia is with her life, with work and school - if Costia has found happiness.

“What did you do after Costia kissed you?”

“I didn’t talk to her for a week?” Lexa absently wrings her hands together, steadies them in her lap as she remembers. “Which was. . .” Lexa swallows down an old stinging in her throat. “It was very difficult because she was my best friend and the only person I really ever talked to back then.”

“Is she still your best friend?”

“No, but. . .” Lexa feels the slight embarrassment in her cheeks but knows the wording matters, so. “Not because we were both girls who liked to kiss each other.”

“What was it then?” Tris asks carefully.

“I don’t think I want to talk about that right now,” Lexa says as gently as she can, offering Tris the smallest smile. “But perhaps another time.”

Tris nods, thoughtfully pulls at the hole in the knee of her jeans for a minute before speaking again. “I think I’d like it if Mia kissed me again.”

“And that’s okay,” Lexa says, chest swelling a little when Tris looks at her like that’s exactly what she needed. “I, uh - if you ever need to talk, you know, when we’re not here. You still have my email and my number, right?”

“Right.” Tris leans her head on Lexa’s shoulder, the contact surprising Lexa if only because it’s so rare between them. They sit like that for a moment, just them and the science-fiction section. “You’re a good friend, Lexa.”

“So are you,” Lexa says, giving Tris a fleeting squeeze of her hand. She gets on her feet then, smiles down at Tris. “Want to go next door for a bite to eat? I have some time and I do owe you thirty minutes.”

Tris beams up at Lexa. “Will you tell me about Clarke?”

“I change my mind.” Lexa frowns and Tris laughs at her. “Go home.”

 

 

 

Lexa’s college town livens up shortly after the lunch hour, the start of Spring prompting a steadier stream of joggers and dog-walkers. It isn’t warm enough to be without her jacket yet but Lexa leaves it unzipped, saying goodbye to Tris after their meal and taking off on her bike.

Listening to Alt-J with a single earbud in, Lexa takes the scenic route to Sienna’s Petals - an eco-friendly local flower shop that’s tucked inbetween a laundromat and a comic book store - and attaches a pre-loaded cart of bouquets to the rear of her bike after saying hello to the shop’s beloved parakeets.

The shop had just opened when Lexa took on the part-time gig, hired in her freshman year by a married couple with high hopes and business savvy. Since then the client list has grown significantly and Lexa’s pleased when they welcome her back at the start of each new school year.

It looks like it might rain when Lexa rides down Main Street, her mind starting to wander as she delivers flowers to tiny shops and restaurants, a bookstore, a bank, and passes by a wall of shockingly compelling graffiti. She thinks about Costia, thinks about high school and how it had proven stressful in regards to her sexuality - not because she was ashamed, but because no matter where she looked the right words seemed to escape her. It wasn’t until she came to Polis and met Maya, who had given her more words than Lexa knew what to do with, that Lexa really started to feel more at home in her own skin.

Raven’s weekly comment of “Lexa, you’re gay as hell” has certainly helped, in its own strangely reaffirming way.

Lexa pulls up to her final stop, plucks her earbud out and clears her mind. Gray clouds slowly part, giving way to warm sunlight. Lexa lets out her kickstand, ties her jacket around her waist and goes into a record store, purple orchids in hand.

Echo rolls her eyes as soon as the bell rings above Lexa’s head. “You’re kidding.”

Lexa shakes her head, walks carefully around the maze of vinyls until she reaches the counter. “Isn’t this the third time this month? I thought the two of you called it quits.”

“We _did_.” Echo takes the orchids and situates them at the far-end of the counter, gently touching a petal with the tips of her fingers. Her mouth shifts into a hard downturn. “But he seems to think I’m something to be won back with whiny voicemails and. . . _these_.”

Lexa hums an acknowledgement, glances around the store and tries not to let her focus wander too much; the store’s unusually empty today. “Shame he was so boring,” she says, cracking a smile when Echo snorts. “He has impeccable taste in flowers. And women.”

Echo rolls her eyes, drags a bundle of vinyls out from under the counter and holds them out for Lexa, who takes them with a blooming grin. “It’s amazing you get any play at all with lines like that.”

“I’ll have you know I’m purely using you for the music.”

Echo laughs. “I should file a complaint.”

“I can give you my supervisor’s contact information if you are unsatisfied with the service I provide you.”

“You _provide_ me with flowers I don’t want from an ex that can’t take a hint. What about that screams satisfied to you?” Lexa laughs as she inspects the bundle. “I, on the other hand, provide you with imports and all I have to show for it are these desperate orchids.”

“I pay you in full ahead of time,” Lexa reminds her, but glances up to find Echo seemingly examining her with her eyes. “What?”

“You’re single, right?”

“What?” Lexa repeats.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Studying,” Lexa answers honestly, the end of it pitching up like a question. But Echo cocks her head, blinks slow and waits. “But I don’t see how that could be of interest to you.”

“It isn’t.” Echo laughs. “But getting laid _is_.”

Lexa’s phone vibrates in her pocket, startles her enough to make Echo laugh. “My phone,” Lexa explains, even as she’s taking it out where someone with seeing eyes can identify it for themselves.

“It’s okay,” Echo says and Lexa’s hit with the sudden realization that Echo is undeniably attractive. “I have to grab my bag anyway. I’ll be back in a sec.”

While Echo disappears into the back room, Lexa finally looks at her screen. A text from Raven reads: _if you come back to the house and find harper’s rotting corpse at your door, it was me_

Lexa smiles, feeling a strange sense of relief. But then: _I think I may have been propositioned just now._

Echo returns before Lexa has the chance to read Raven’s reply. “Your tip,” she says, pulling a few bills out of her bag and handing them to Lexa. And as Lexa’s storing them away, Echo scribbles something on the back of a receipt. Lexa turns it over in her hands when Echo gives it to her, reads an address and meets Echo’s gaze. “If you want a break from studying.”

 

 

 

“You said _what_.”

Lexa glances around the table at her housemates. It’s Maya’s week to cook dinner, and she does so happily but with one condition - they all have to sit down at the table and eat together. Raven’s looking at her from across the table, mouth twisting with a grin and a question, Harper nearly mirroring it from her seat beside Raven.

“I told her that I enjoy our arrangement as it is,” Lexa repeats, shrugging.

Octavia says, “Leave her alone, Raven” and forks some steamed broccoli into her mouth. “Not all of us get off on flirting with anything that moves.”

“Thank you, Octavia,” Lexa says, shoulders straightening.

Octavia winks at her and Lexa laughs.

“Anything that moves?” Raven scoffs. “Please.”

Octavia squints at Raven. “Name one person in the house that you haven’t hit on.” She looks pointedly at Harper. “Or made out with.”

Harper chokes a little on her food. “That was one time.” She relents when Raven laughs. “Okay, twice.”

“That’s easy,” Raven says to Octavia, unbothered. “Maya.”

Maya looks up from her food, smiles when Raven catches her eye. “Only because you don’t stand a chance.”

Raven’s eyes bug out and the whole table laughs. “Gotta watch out for the quiet ones,” Raven says then, joining in the laughter and reaching out to give Maya a high-five.

“How’s the panel coming along?” Lexa asks when the laughter dies down.

“Great,” Maya beams. “The community’s grown a lot the last couple years but I was struggling with finding asexual voices who were willing to speak, and aren’t _straight_ ,” there’s a table’s worth of eye rolls, “other than mine,” she adds a little shyly, even with all her experience speaking at these events. Lexa admires that about her, that Maya does what she feels she must, even when she’s afraid. “Until Raven graciously offered to be available for questions, too. So that’s one less major thing to stress over.”

Lexa golf claps at Raven, and Raven kicks her under the table.

“Maya said it would be helpful to have somebody that falls elsewhere on the ace spectrum,” Raven supplies. “Spending the day with a bunch of hot queer people isn’t the worst thing either.”

Maya shakes her head, smiling still. “Now all that’s left is handing out flyers.”

“Want us to cover the usual bases?” Octavia asks, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

Maya’s eyes are soft. “If you don’t mind.”

“Course not,” Harper says, briefly touching Maya’s arm, and they all offer their enthusiastic agreement.

“This was awesome, Maya.” Raven says a little later, reaching for Harper’s empty plate and setting it on top of her own before sliding out of her chair. Harper watches Raven move into the kitchen, brows knitted and smile blooming. “Do us all a favor and take over Lexa’s week.”

Octavia snorts, taking hers and Maya’s plates to the sink, Lexa following close behind.

“What about my cooking do you find unsatisfactory?” Lexa rolls her sleeves up to her elbows, turns on the water and waves her fingers through it periodically until it’s warm enough; the chore chart posted on the fridge indicates the end of her week for kitchen clean-up. “I see to it that we’re all well-sustained.”

Raven laughs and starts clearing the dish rack of dry silverware, returning them to their appointed drawer. It’s part of Lexa’s kitchen duties so when Raven meets her gaze, Lexa’s eying her suspiciously. Raven braces her hand on Lexa’s shoulder then, pulls a face like she’s delivering bad news. “ _Spice Up Your Life_ isn’t just a song on my running playlist.”

Octavia laughs and starts singing the chorus, Harper joining in and Maya chuckling as they follow her through the common room and into Maya’s room.

Raven’s the only one still lingering in the kitchen when Lexa starts washing dishes. “So did you see her?”

“I’ve laid my eyes on a variety of women today, Raven. You’ll have to narrow it down.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Raven opens the fridge door, scans its contents for a moment and decides on a beer. Lexa slides open a drawer and digs out the bottle opener, setting it on the counter for her. Raven nods a thanks and pops the top on her bottle. “I meant Clarke.”

“I did.” Lexa rinses a plate clear of soap and places it in the dish rack.

“And?”

“And. . .” Lexa glances over at Raven. “She makes a great latte.”

Raven laughs and hops onto the countertop beside Lexa, quietly sips at her beer while Lexa finishes her kitchen duties. It isn’t until Lexa returns from taking the trash out that she really looks at Raven, really sees her.

Lexa washes her hands, grabs a beer, does it all in silence just in case Raven wants to speak first. And when there’s still nothing but the soft sound of Raven pulling from her drink, Lexa shifts her weight uncomfortably. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Raven says slowly, eyes distant. Lexa positions herself in Raven’s line of sight, leaning against the counter directly across from her and waits. “I was just thinking about Maya’s panel.”

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"No, it's not that." Raven finishes her beer and presses the bottle between her knees, fingers tapping light against it. The longer Lexa stares the more she starts to feel it, an inconsistent pulse with too much to say and nowhere else to go. When Raven finally makes eye contact, it's paired with a half-smile and a shrug. "I don't know what it is exactly."

Lexa hums, sips at her beer. “Have you ever spoken openly about it with anyone outside the house?”

"Yeah." Raven nods, holding Lexa's gaze. "Anyone I could see myself getting serious with; I didn't want them to feel misled? And it never. . ." she trails off, brings one hand up to scratch under her jaw. "Wanting someone to understand me when I - it's, I don't know. Whatever. It's not a big deal."

"Isn't it?" Lexa proposes simply, something stirring within, and Raven stares at her, eyes clearly aiming for closed-off but landing somewhere closer to uncertain.

"I only said yes to this because Maya needed someone to step up," Raven says in place of an answer. "And I'm not about going back on my word, ever."

"But you're nervous," Lexa offers, breathing out an old feeling and holding her chin up in silent protest of its need to fester, "because you don't have it all figured out."

Something in Raven's hands visibly relaxes, even if the rest of her body does not. They stay like that for awhile, just the two of them in the kitchen, in the stove-light with their housemates' faded laughter in the distance. Lexa interrupts the stillness with caution, voice steady and quiet. "You are not one of your gadgets, Raven. I'm afraid we don't get to just pick ourselves apart piece by piece until we can better understand why it is we are the way that we are."

"That doesn't stop us from trying," Raven mumbles. Lexa wonders how much harder it must be for Raven, for someone who excels in the deconstruction and rebuilding of anything with a battery, to be thwarted at all by the human condition.

"I should hope not," Lexa says and Raven lifts her eyes. Lexa finishes off her beer, collects her thoughts and releases them slowly. "But I think it's okay that the time needed per individual varies as greatly as it does. We are who we are," Lexa believes, peering back at Raven. "Maybe we're meant to make peace with not always knowing why."

Raven hops down off the counter after a long moment, glancing at Lexa on her way to the fridge. Lexa rinses out their empty bottles and dries her hands off on a dishtowel, turning and leaning a hip against the sink while Raven pops the tops on two new bottles. Lexa cracks a smile and Raven rolls her eyes.

"You're so annoying." Raven holds out one of the bottles for Lexa to take, her barely-there smile something otherworldly as it finds its way to her eyes.

Lexa almost says so when she accepts Raven's offering with both hands, but relies instead on her better judgment. "Don't you have a paper to write for Sinclair's class?" Off Raven's huff, Lexa levels her shoulders and dips her voice lower, grateful for this familiarity between them that she can fall back on. "I would hate to outshine you in front of your favorite professor again."

"Okay, first of all I was _asleep_ when he gave out the extra credit assignment." Raven's neck and hands are all attitude; Lexa is merely observing. "So your extra ten points on the midterm don't count for shit, you colossal fucking nerd."

Lexa's mouth almost gives way to a smirk just as the door to Maya's room is opening, Harper closing it behind her before she wanders over to Raven and Lexa with a grin on her face. "These are for you." Harper holds out a stack of flyers for Lexa, who takes them without shifting her gaze away from Raven. "And these are for us," she tells Raven, who does look away if only to acknowledge Harper.

When the three of them are in the upstairs hallway, Raven shoves Lexa's shoulder. She says, "And I already wrote it so pick up the pace, slacker" before she and Harper disappear into their room.

Lexa's halfway into revising her paper when Raven texts: _thanks._

 

 

 

Focus abandons Lexa later that evening.

She regrets knocking on Raven’s door the second it opens, Raven standing there in her threadbare tank top and sweatpants sitting crooked on her hips, wireless headset around her neck. It’s nearly midnight so Lexa knows Raven is at her peak awakeness, hopped up on energy drinks and in the middle of an online gaming match. Lexa assumes she’s winning, smug grin stretching across Raven’s face when tinny, furious voices swear revenge from her headset.

“If you’re looking for a bootycall, you’re at the wrong door.”

“Speak for yourself,” Harper says from where she’s sitting on her bed, not bothering to look away from her laptop.

Lexa ignores them both. “Would you mind lending me your car?”

Raven moves towards her desk, leaving the door open. Lexa remains in the doorway. “For what?” Raven asks, digging through the pockets of a pair of jeans that hang off the back of her desk chair. She stops suddenly, glancing over her shoulder with wide eyes that are too bright and too pleased. Lexa sighs in anticipation. “Please tell me you changed your mind.”

Lexa fights a smile if only to deprive Raven the satisfaction. She'd moved on from her paper and had been looking for another notebook when Echo's inviting receipt fell out of her bag. "I'm in need of a study break."

"Be safe," Harper says, still not looking up from her laptop. But she's grinning. Unfortunately so is Raven.

"Wait," Raven says, stepping into Lexa's space. Lexa inhales, a sharp and quiet sound that she's immediately embarrassed about. Her mind works quickly to excuse it, reminding Lexa that her body had already been buzzing before she even knocked on Raven's door.

Raven backs Lexa out of the room then, softly shutting the door behind her. Lexa's neighboring door is ajar, the light from her room cutting into the hallway. Raven switches off her headset, the glowing neon-red lining suddenly gone. "Lose the top button," Raven quietly instructs.

Lexa frowns, at Raven and possibly at herself. "I don't see how that'll make a difference," she says, even as she's undoing the top button on her shirt.

"You have a nice neck." Raven blinks at Lexa with bold eyes and wet lashes. "Just trust me."

Ignoring a steadily blooming heat, Lexa nods. Raven watches her for a long moment and Lexa starts to wonder about this stillness, about the kinds of things near-darkness allows. She smiles curiously at Raven and it must be the wrong move - or the right one, Lexa can't quite categorize it - because Raven rocks forward the slightest bit and presses a kiss to the corner of Lexa's mouth.

"That's for earlier," Raven explains before Lexa can ask. She holds out her car keys but Lexa can't make herself take them until Raven's playful grin returns, filling Lexa with familiar exasperation. "Grab me a Milky Way and a Monster on your way home."

"I imagine you would have better luck sleeping regularly if you'd cut down on your energy drink consumption," Lexa comments.

Raven rolls her eyes, taking a step back and settling one hand on the doorknob. "And you'd probably be getting laid by now if you weren't standing here nagging me."

Impassively, Lexa says, "I do not nag" and Raven laughs at her.

 

 

 

"I'm sorry for contacting you so late."

Echo's walking away, leaving her front door open, but Lexa remains in the entrance.

"If I had a problem with the hour I wouldn't have told you to come over," Echo tells her, glancing over her shoulder as though she expected Lexa to be right behind her. She gives Lexa an amused smile before moving towards a large cabinet on the wall opposite of Lexa, gently pulling open the doors and revealing a collection of vinyls. Lexa's eyes widen as Echo runs her fingers over the casings. "I hope you don't expect me to drop to my knees in the doorway."

Lexa clears her throat, takes the hint and steps fully into the apartment, pulse in her throat as she shuts the door behind her.

"Come on," Echo says, her smile shadowed as she takes her music selection into another room. Lexa hangs her jacket on one of the hooks near the door and follows, finding herself in Echo's bedroom. Lexa lingers in the doorway and watches Echo lift the transparent lid on a record player that sits upon a dresser. Music starts up then, all instrumental and biting, swirling build. "Do you need a drink first?"

Lexa sticks her hands into her pockets and gives a slow head shake.

"It's sweet that you're nervous," Echo says, leaning back against her dresser. Lexa doesn't miss the way Echo's hands grip at the edges, like she's the one who needs steadying, and that gets Lexa moving.

"It isn't nerves," Lexa tells her, voice even. The room is lit by a single lamp, and then it isn't, Lexa switching it off as she passes by it.

When Lexa stops a half-step in front of her, Echo lightly pushes off the dresser. "What is it then?" she teases, eyes flashing in the moonlight that streaks across her face. "I'm interested in your enlightenment."

Hunger, Lexa thinks but doesn't say. "I abandoned my enlightenment to come see you." Silent and slow, Lexa undoes the buttons on her own shirt, the pulse in her throat growing stronger as Echo follows the movement with her eyes. "So you'll have to forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

Echo lift her eyes, mouth twisting up on one side. "You were serious about studying."

Lexa mirrors the half-smirk. "I can go."

Echo laughs at that, the sound driving Lexa forward to bridge the gap between their mouths. Echo seems to respond with her whole body, kissing Lexa back with an insistence that she also carries in her hands, palms reaching into the opening of Lexa's shirt and burning over skin.

Lexa backs Echo into the dresser, weaving her hands into Echo's hair when their hips press together, and Echo makes this throaty sound of approval that causes Lexa's thighs to clench. Lexa focuses on searching for that sound again, kissing her with new urgency and experimentally touching Echo over her clothing until Lexa has worked her up so much that Echo's hips rub inconsistently against Lexa's, seeking out friction that Lexa's suddenly desperate to supply.

She pulls away instead, blinking through her haze.

"You're good at this," Echo says, breath shallow and voice wanting, her eyes blown.

Lexa doesn't know how to respond to that except to swallow, pleased all the way down to her bones that she's making Echo feel good. She almost stops to ask why Echo picked her, but needs to continue touching her more than she wants to know, so Lexa settles for replying with her own truth. "I'll want to keep my shirt on."

Echo watches her for a moment, closes the gap again with a slow kiss that surprises Lexa. "That's cool," Echo mumbles against her mouth. "I might bite your head off if I'm not naked in the next five minutes, though."

Lexa responds by smoothing her hands up Echo's sides, dragging the shirt up and off in one motion. Echo unhooks her bra and Lexa pushes the straps off her shoulders, finding that throaty sound again when she brushes thumbs over Echo's nipples. Echo slides her hands up the sides of Lexa's neck and pulls her in by the nape, groaning into another kiss when Lexa drops one hand between Echo's thighs.

Echo shifts against Lexa's hand for a minute, breathing hard. "Shit, I need-" she starts, prompting Lexa to hook her fingers under Echo's pants and underwear, and Echo lets out this sighing, unexpected "please."

Lexa licks her lips and drops to her knees.

 

 

 

A figure is sneaking out of Maya's room when Lexa's sneaking back into the house.

At five. In the morning.

Lexa's vision adjusts against the darkness of the common room, Raven's car keys gripped tightly in one hand and a reusable grocery bag in the other. "Octavia?"

"Lexa?" Octavia breathes a sigh of relief, setting down on the couch what looks like Harper's lacrosse stick. "What the hell. I thought someone was breaking in."

"With keys?" Lexa moves into the kitchen and turns on the stove-light, Octavia padding in behind her on bare feet. Lexa unpacks candy and caffeine, grabs a post-it and pen from a miscellaneous drawer and marks both items with Raven's name. She sets them in the fridge and pulls out a bottled water for herself, taking in Octavia's disheveled clothes and hair as she drinks from it. "I've never known you to be jumpy."

"Not so much jumpy as protective," Octavia says lowly, gaze briefly flitting to Maya's door. She yawns and comes away with a grin. "Where've you been?"

"Study break," Lexa answers flatly, inevitably yawning herself and cracking a smile when Octavia laughs under her breath. Lexa waits until they're both upstairs and in their own beds before asking, "How is she?"

Octavia's quiet long enough that Lexa wonders if she's fallen asleep. But it's that near-darkness that makes her wait. "She misses her mom, you know?" Morning light creeps across the ceiling and Lexa follows it with her eyes as Octavia breathes out. "She's fine a lot of the time but. . ." she trails off and Lexa can hear it, can see all the nights that Octavia has spent tucked away in Maya's corner. They've all been there for her in some capacity or another but Lexa knows it's different between the two of them even if she can't put a name to it. "I'm just glad she's getting involved again."

Lexa rolls onto her side, sees Octavia blinking up at the ceiling, up at the light. Lexa has a mother and father but doesn't know what it is to like them as people, or to feel truly loved by them, let alone to lose them. Fleetingly, Lexa tries to imagine the heaviness of having someone she wouldn't want to live without, and when she comes up empty she does not linger on it. Lexa does, however, see the strain in Octavia's body. "And how are you?"

"I'm alive," Octavia tells her, a vocal shrug that carries across the quiet of the room. "Did Harper give you the flyers?" Lexa hums and Octavia turns her face, dark hair falling with the movement. "Night."

"Goodnight, Octavia," Lexa says, rolling over to face the wall. When her eyes droop, body slowly giving in to sleep, she's startled awake by the smack of a pillow to the head.

"I can't believe you crept back in here at five in the morning." Octavia laughs behind her hand when Lexa regards her with mild irritation. "You know I'm telling the rest of the house, right?"

Lexa glowers but retaliates by taking the offending pillow and keeping it for herself, resting her head on it and feeling a childish laugh catch in her chest when Octavia stealthily bounds over and wrestles it back.

 

 

 

It's a Wednesday morning, and more than a week later, when Lexa returns to the Daily Grind.

"Hey, stranger." Clarke appears well-rested, smiling as broadly as Lexa remembers.

Lexa rubs at her eyes, has to blink her vision clear. Cool morning air still clings to her cheeks, insistent against her skin as she rode her bike into town. Something passes across Clarke's features, brief and unreadable, eyes going bright when Lexa asks, "Do you find me that forgettable, Clarke?"

"I have a name-tag," Clarke says, the smile in her eyes giving away the false nature of her frown. "That makes you a cheater and I won't stand to be accused by cheaters."

"Your roundabout response has been noted," Lexa says, earning a disbelieving laugh from Clarke. "May I have a latte?"

"Large, right?" Clarke asks, turning towards the wall of appliances before she can see Lexa nod.

"And a shortbread cookie, please."

Clarke glances over her shoulder, her smile small and private. If Lexa had the energy, she'd return it. Instead she lets her eyes wander as Clarke works, gaze landing and locking on the very faint colors staining the column of Clarke's neck. Lexa finds herself imagining Clarke in a room with paint-splattered walls and afternoon light, eyes so bright and that private smile still intact.

"Anything else I can do for you this morning?" Clarke asks, turning on her heel and setting the tall coffee cup on the counter.

Lexa clears her throat, watches Clarke retrieve the cookie and place it gingerly beside her drink. "Actually. . ." Lexa starts, momentarily stumbling away from her thoughts when Clarke looks at her with a grin, and far worse, hopeful eyes. But she remembers the remaining flyers in her bag and pulls one out, slowly holding it out in front of her. Clarke takes it into her hands and skims over it, smile softening again. "Would you mind if I hung one of these up on the board by the door?"

“I’ll have to check with my manager but it should be fine. College town and all that.”

Lexa nods.

When Clarke meets Lexa’s gaze, it’s with a kind and knowing smile. Maybe that’s what makes Lexa say, “You should come. If your schedule permits, of course. Bring whomever you want.”

Clarke hums thoughtfully and then runs Lexa’s debit card through the machine.

“Will you be there?” Clarke asks, semi-casually, as she returns Lexa’s card with a quick glance at Lexa’s outstretched fingers.

Lexa warms quickly. “I will.” That gets a big, bright Clarke smile. “I’ll be there.”

Clarke’s left hand makes quick work of pen to paper coffee cup, sliding the drink closer to Lexa and watching with a sparkle in her eye when Lexa begins to inspect it for damages.

No cartoon this time. Instead, there’s a phone number and an italic note: _it’s a date_

“Text me,” she says, distracting when more customers come through the door. “I should get back to work.” And when Lexa opens her mouth to reply, Clarke flashes a quick grin and makes a playful shooing motion with her hands. “Don’t be a stranger, Lexa.”

Lexa sips her latte if only to mask her blooming smile, observing Clarke’s hustle for just a few moments before she finally takes her leave, and thinks:

_Raven’s going to love this._


End file.
